what could have been
by achieving elysium
Summary: Rescuing Lance, as Matt finds out, means hearing lots of pick-up lines, coming out of the closet, and a fight or two. Written for the VLD Rarepair Exchange on Twitter.


**what could have been  
** _achieving elysium_

* * *

"So… uh, come here often?"

Matt gritted his teeth, glancing behind him at the doors he'd barricaded with what little he could find. It wouldn't take much longer until the Galra were here.

"Lance," he hissed. "We don't have time for pick-up lines."

Lance only smiled tiredly at him, winking.

"There's always time for you—"

" _Lance._ "

"Okay, okay. Sorry, dude, but you're so much prettier than Haggar. Like, her hair's not bad, I guess, and her nails are to die for, but you've got her beat."

"Oh, be quiet," Matt said, but he ducked his head and ignored the blush that was spreading across his cheeks.

He sawed at Lance's chains again, growing more and more desperate as the sound of thundering footsteps echoed from down the hall. Even Lance seemed to be losing his cool; so close to him, Matt swore he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

Finally, the first chain snapped. The ones on his ankles came off easier, and Lance tore himself from the last one, crying out as it broke.

He staggered forward, and Matt surged to catch him.

He searched Lance's face.

"Alright?"

Lance took a few shallow breaths. He still looked a bit unsteady but nodded.

"Let's go."

Matt led him over to the wall, gesturing at the vent above their heads before he used his staff to pry off the grate.

"Do you think you can get up if I boost you?"

Lance's face went ashen; he sucked in a breath as he glanced up at the vent and then calculated the distance from the ground.

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" he asked. "I'm taller than you."

Matt chewed on his lip. "Can you…"

He wasn't sure if Lance was strong enough. He looked bone-thin, and his face was drawn and sallow.

"I don't think I'd be able to pull you up," Lance said quietly, looking away.

Matt took a deep breath then released it. They didn't have time to talk, so Matt pressed a button on his staff, the weapon shrinking in size, and clipped it on his belt before nodding.

Lance knelt, locking his fingers together to create a step.

He could feel Lance shaking under him as he was lifted into the air. Matt ignored the twisting in his stomach and reached for the vent, finally catching a hold and pulling himself in.

He turned around, using his feet to brace himself and extending his arms as far as they would go.

"Reach for me," he called, and Lance took a few steps back.

There was a terrifying moment when Matt didn't think he'd make it. Then a pair of hands wrapped around his wrists, and Matt pulled Lance up, groaning at the effort.

They landed in a heap, Lance falling on top of Matt.

"Hey," Lance said, grinning.

Matt blushed at their proximity.

"Hey," he replied, inching backwards. Lance clambered to the side.

They crawled through the vents, stopping ever so often to let Lance rest for a second, before reaching the end.

"Guess we have no choice," Matt muttered, kicking the vent. It took a couple tries, but it finally came off; he dropped to the floor quietly. Lance came tumbling out after him.

"Where…"

"A closet?"

"Huh," Lance said dryly, picking up what looked like a mop. "Nice place to make out."

He caught Matt's look and smiled. "Sorry. When I'm stressed, it's either crying, impulse shopping online, or sending pick-up lines at the nearest person who'll listen. Or a combination of all of them."

"I can tell."

Matt pressed his ear to the door, listening for footsteps.

"Coast clear?"

He shook his head. "We might have to wait a bit."

While it was dangerous to sit around on an enemy ship, Matt figured nobody would check the closet for a pair of ex-prisoners, so they were fine for the time being.

Lance sank gratefully to the ground. He didn't look good.

Gone was the bright boy he'd met months ago; in his place was someone who almost looked like a stranger, dressed in a torn tunic and pants so different from his armor. He was painfully thin, and there were scars where there hadn't been before.

Matt's attention was drawn to Lance's fingers. He hadn't noticed before, too caught up in the rush of escaping, but now he wondered how he could've missed it.

"Your hand," he said softly, keeping his voice low.

Lance lifted his right hand in front of his face, inspecting his fingers. His lips curled up in a bitter smile.

"Kinda cool, isn't it?"

His fingers looked like they'd been dipped in a deep blue paint that faded into his skin. The tips of his fingers were the darkest part, almost black, but at the base it was a blue the color of his Lion.

Matt reached his hand out, and Lance let him slide their fingers up against each. Lance's hands were cold— very, very cold.

"What did she do?"

Lance lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "You know Haggar. She likes her experiments."

Matt swallowed hard, remembering Shiro's arm. "Yeah."

Lance let his hand fall and then reached up to scratch at the back of his head.

"Uh, I don't really know how to explain it. It's like… she pumped me with quintessence. And then something… weird happened."

"Can't get weirder than aliens."

Lance huffed a laugh. "Guess not."

He was silent for another moment. "She gave me, uh, powers. Yeah, powers. Like Elsa."

The reference took a moment to click. "Ice?"

In answer, Lance pressed his hand to the floor, and his fingers glowed faintly. Ice began to form under his touch, creeping across the ground, and Matt felt his eyes go wide.

"It's— a bit hard to control," Lance said, the ice stopping. "Uh, and I definitely can't make any ice castles or anything. But yeah."

Matt wasn't sure what to say. He didn't know if he should've been apologizing, or sympathizing, or saying it was useful in a fight.

"A bit limited, too," Lance added, holding up his hand again. On the back of it, a rune had been painted on. "She has a matching one. So I'm in her presence, she can control me."

Matt winced.

"Sorry," Lance said, sighing.

"Don't be sorry," Matt replied, reaching out to grip Lance's hand. Lance sucked in a sharp breath.

After he'd found Voltron – or maybe it was the other way around, Matt and Lance had, in a sense, hit it off. They were similar to one another, shared a lot of the same thoughts (and humor), and so Lance had become his second friend on Team Voltron.

He'd ultimately made the decision to stay with the rebels. Not because he'd wanted to leave Katie or Shiro – no, that had been the hardest part – but because he was needed.

There'd always been an underlying of something more with Lance. Glances across the dinner table. A too-friendly sparring session. A flash of a smile, the brushing of fingers, a whispered word here, a late-night conversation there.

But nothing had ever come out of it.

War had hardened them, had pulled them in two different directions. In his weekly calls and reports to Voltron after he'd left, Lance would catch Matt's eye.

"Maybe one day," Lance had said longingly once, during one of Matt's last few days on the Castle of Lions. He'd been staring out at the stars, but then he'd turned to Matt and smiled, soft and real.

Matt had squeezed his hand then, feeling warmth trickle through his chest.

"Maybe one day," he'd agreed, and that had been that. He was Matt's what-could-have-been.

When Lance had gone missing, Matt had locked himself up in his room and raged. He'd wondered if things would've been different had he stayed with Team Voltron, if he could've prevented Lance from being captured.

Katie had been in tears when she'd called. She'd begged for help, and then Matt had thrown himself to searching.

"I never said thank you," Lance said quietly, and Matt blinked.

"For what?"

"You got me out of chains," he replied. Matt tilted his head.

"We're not quite out of here yet," Matt said warningly, pressing his ear to the door again. "I think we're clear. Are you good to go?"

Lance touched his hand to his side, where a set of dirty bandages had been wrapped around a wound Matt couldn't see. Enough to keep him alive, enough to keep him fighting in the ring, but nothing close to a healing pod.

"Yeah," he said a moment later. Matt got up, extending a hand, and Lance took it. "Time to come out, huh?"

They managed to make it to the bay doors, where Amavit was waiting. She'd be circling around the ship until Matt signaled that he was ready to go.

"Amavit?" he called now, tapping the comms unit. "Fuck."

"Uh," Lance said, backing up a few steps. "We good, dude? 'Cause we kinda need to go."

They'd been spotted. Matt swore again, ignoring Lance's protests as he stood in front of him and lifted his shield and staff.

"Comms are down," he said. "Lance, stay back. See if there's any escape pods around."

"Matt—"

He blocked a barrage of gunfire and raced forward, tearing through a crowd of sentries. Matt lost himself in the fight, hating every second of it, but he forced himself to think of Lance. _Protect._

He knocked a gun out of a sentry's hand and lashed out at another. _Protect._

A laser cut through his defenses and sliced at his arm. Matt cried out but didn't stop.

 _Protect. Protect. Protect._

A sentry caught him in the leg, and Matt stumbled, losing his momentum. Shiro had saved his life, but it'd left him with a weak knee that now buckled under the pressure.

"Matt, no!"

Ice crackled. The sentry that had been about to hit Matt froze in place.

Matt scrambled backwards, slamming another sentry with his shield and managing to regain his footing.

"Thanks," he called.

"Uh, don't mention it. Left!"

He blocked a swing from the left and backed up further until he was with Lance. In the time that he did, Lance had stolen one of the sentries' guns and was now firing away.

"Look at us," Lance mused, as if they weren't fighting for their lives. "A real power couple."

"Oh, we're a couple now, are we?"

Lance only grinned.

"If you want," he said lightly.

 _"—Holt, you there? Holt!"_

Matt sighed in relief. "Amavit, took you long enough."

 _"Can you hold out a little longer? My location's been compromised. I've been trying to get these ships out of the way, but I can get in soon."_

Matt hissed through his teeth.

"The sooner the better," he reminded. "Keep in touch."

"We gotta retreat!"

Even with the two of them armed, there were too many sentries. Matt raised his shield and grabbed Lance's arm; the two of them ran for it, shooting down the hallway. He dragged Lance this way and that until they were able to slow down, ducking into an empty alcove.

Lance was panting. He leaned back against the wall, face twisting in pain.

"I'm sorry," Matt gasped between breaths.

"'S fine," Lance said. "Better than being caught again."

Matt winced, touching Lance's shoulder gently. "Alright?"

"As good as I can be." Then Lance smiled. "At least you're here."

"We'll make it out of here. I promise."

Lance lolled his head to look over at Matt. "Thanks. I mean it."

"Isn't that what boyfriends do?" he asked, half-joking, but Matt's heart was pounding in his chest. He wasn't sure if it was from the running.

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Boyfriends, huh? You asking? Honestly, I expected more flowers and less Galra."

It wasn't the right time, but Matt wanted to kiss him, wanted to cup his hands around Lance's face and kiss until he was breathless. Instead, Matt took Lance's hand, and he shut up, lacing their fingers together tightly.

"One day," he promised, smiling.

"Mmm," Lance hummed, putting his head on Matt's shoulder for a moment and sighing. "As long as it's soon."


End file.
